


Time has come

by YuriOokino



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Demon!Dean, Finale theory, First Blade, Gen, Mark of Cain, Mild Language, One Shot, Season/Series 10, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2795522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YuriOokino/pseuds/YuriOokino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The time has come for Castiel to fulfill his promise and to stop Dean from giving in to the Mark of Cain. Season 10 finale theory. EDIT: This fic has finally found a beta! Something's has been edited and added.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time has come

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I own nothing and no one  
>  **Notes:** This short and meaningless fic was inspired by [this illustration](http://one-wayward-daughter.tumblr.com/post/105295338192/its-a-bloodline-stretching-back-to-cain-and), also by me (what an ego bitch). Yeah, no, I can't title stuff. It's just... something I had in mind and needed to get rid of. Not a native speaker. I'm so sorry.  
>  Also, the POV changes right after the introduction.  
>  **EDIT:** A big "thank you" to [Sanshal](http://sanshal.livejournal.com/) who offered their help, advice and support and made me a huge favour by beta-editing this fic.

“Don’t do that!” Castiel hears Sam yelling from the other side of the warehouse. He knocked him out just a few moments ago, but he’s already on his knees. Sam Winchester, always hoping for the best. Always believing there’s another way to do it.  
 _There’s not._ Cas knows there’s no time left.  
He raises his hands and feels the heat spreading from his palm, while the grace concentrates and leaves his chest colder. He raises his hand in front of Dean, who has now recovered stability on his legs and is approaching. He’s grinning, yearning for more blood. The First Blade is shaking in his right hand with excitement. Cas can see the darkness flickering in his eyes. This is the right time to do that, or he won’t have enough energy to finish him, he won’t have another chance.  
The white light widens around Dean’s head like a halo, and Cas can already hear the sound of searing flesh.  
“Don’t!”  
Suddenly there’s another head in the way; Sam has appeared in front of him, shielding his brother. He’s not the person who’s supposed to die today. Cas needs to stop immediately. The white energy leaves his palm and re-enters his body like a warm punch to the guts.  
Sam uncovers his eyes. The bright angel light is not made for humans, Cas remembers.  
“Thanks,” Sam says. His voice trembles slightly and he’s panting, but there’s an expression of utter relief on his face. “Thanks, I-“  
And then the words are interrupted by a mouthful of blood. There’s a sound of bones cracking and muscles tearing as Dean twists the Blade into his brother’s back.  
No time to think. Cas flings Dean away, as far as possible, and immediately feels his grace drying up. The Blade clatters to the floor.

\-----

Dean stops hearing the blood rushing in his ears as soon as he loses contact with the Blade. Then he hits the ground violently and all the air is pushed out of his lungs from the impact. His heart is still hammering and his head’s on fire, but there’s something different too... It’s like the adrenaline has been replaced by chilling water all of a sudden. He rests on his back for a few moments, waiting for the air to fill his chest again. He blinks and it’s like a fog has been lifted from his eyes. He squints in confusion when he feels something tickling his right forearm. The sensation flares into outright burning as he turns his head to check, but something else gets his attention.  
There’s blood on his hands.  
 _And it’s definitely not his._

\-----

“Sam?”  
As always, that’s the first word that leaves his mouth in desperate moments. Less than fifty feet away from him, a blurry figure is kneeling down on someone. Finally, his view becomes clear again. Dean’s breath quickens as he recognises Sam in that sprawled body. He throws himself aside his brother, on the floor that’s made slippery from the blood. There’s so much blood already.  
“Sammy!” He grabs at his shoulder, shaking lightly, making Sam flinch and blink. That’s good. “Hey, it’s alright. I gotcha!”  
Dean lifts him against his chest, but his stomach drops as soon as he feels the blood soaking his fingers. Sam does not make any attempt in helping him holding up his weight. His body’s limp and motionless, like he’s given up already. There's something whispering in Dean’s mind... a memory that he instinctively knows threatens him: a memory of what he might have done. A memory of feeling bones cracking and muscles tearing. And a memory of utter enjoyment.  
He shakes his head, trying to clear up his mind. Priorities... He has to prioritise. What to do next? He has to stop the bleeding first. Except... Except it’s not stopping at all. There’s no way, _it’s like a fucking broken dam._  
Sam stiffens and shakes in his arms. His lips are turning blue.  
“Hold on, little brother,” Dean says, trying to sound reassuring. But he’s failing miserably.  
“It’s okay,” Sam breathes. He’s more successful than Dean in making a calming voice. “You’re okay-“  
“Stop talking! I ain’t okay!” He can’t stop yelling. “Cas, do something, dammit!” Apparently, there’s nothing else he can do. As soon as he stops, everything will be over.  
The angel doesn’t move. He’s kneeling down in front of him and has that pitiful, sympathetic look on his face. He opens his mouth as he’s looking for the most effective words to use.  
“I can’t. Even if I drain my grace completely, I wouldn’t have enough power to heal a wound like that.”  
“What is that supposed to mean?!” Dean asks impatiently.  
Again, the angel opens his mouths, and waits before lowering his gaze. “He’s gone. I can’t bring him back.”  
Dean grabs his little brother tighter, hoping he can help him recover some heat. _His blood is still warm on his hands!_ He clings to Sam’s jacket like he can keep him in this life like that. He knows he can’t. That has already happened too many times. Although never like this.  
“No... You can-“. Dean inhales sharply, tries to calm down. To focus. He clenches his teeth and tries to speak in a voice as steady as possible. “Do something.” Maybe, if he phrases it calmly, he will understand.  
Castiel stares at him and says nothing.  
Dean realises he’s rocking Sam gently, his head against his chest. A few years ago that would have healed any cold, fever or nightmare. It’s difficult to lose that habit. But, obviously, this is not the case. Sam is cold, pale and helpless. Dean buries his face in his brother’s hair, inhales that scent that will soon be gone forever, _replaced by ashes._  
“Finish the job.”  
“What?”  
Dean doesn’t raise his head. “You heard me! I said finish the job! Why didn’t you do it, why did you stop?! I asked you to do it, I begged you! Why was it so hard to understand? I go dark, you end me. No questions and no more dead bodies, but mine!” He finally lets his right hand lose his grip on Sam. He grabs Cas’s wrist; hard enough to shatter his bones, if that was a normal living body. He pulls the angel’s hand in front on his face. “Can you at least finish what I asked you to do?! Now, Cas!”  
Cas sighs. “I have no reason to do it, now.”  
“You kiddin’ me?”  
“That’s not what he’d have wanted.”  
Dean is fast losing that final fragment of sanity keeping him together. “You think?! I’m pretty sure he didn’t want a friggin’ blade in his back either!”  
“No.” Cas gently pulls his hand away from Dean. “He wanted you free from the Mark, and now you are.”  
It takes him a moment to even remember that there was a Mark. He stares at his forearm in disbelief. The Mark is gone like it’s never been there. “How’s this possible?”  
Can shrugs.”I don’t know. I guess... the Mark has fulfilled its purpose.”  
“You mean _killing my brother_?!” Dean hears his words echoing in the warehouse, bouncing off the bare walls and coming back to him, hitting like a million stabs. There’s silence after, and Dean has time to process what he’s just said. And that makes it final. He’s suddenly struggling to breathe. He can’t stop his body from shacking, but it’s not because of the dead weight he’s carrying. That weight will never be too heavy to carry. His brain freezes and those words get stuck in a loop. _I killed him. I killed him. I killed him._  
“That... is not how it was supposed to-.” The words tangle in his throat, his eyes burning. He’s lying to himself. That’s _exactly_ how it was supposed to go, and that’s why he asked Cas to prevent it.  
He looks at the angel one last time, pleading. “Can’t you be merciful? Isn’t that how you’re supposed to be?”  
Cas tilts his head. “I will not kill you.”  
Dean takes a shaky breath in order to prevent himself from punching him. Or begging him through tears. Instead, he chooses to hang on to his brother, closes his eyes and hopes that everything will fade into dark.  
“Then leave,” he whispers.  
“Dean... we’ll find another way. I’ll help,” Cas says, with a hint of hope that’s just too much to stand right now.  
“Leave,” Dean hisses through his teeth.  
When he raises his head, Cas is gone, and the Blade with him.  
The silence pushes on Dean like it wants to crush him. He bends down even more, curls up around Sam as the world becomes smaller and smaller. He feels like the lump in his throat is going to rip him apart, until he realises there’s no one left to hide his tears from. The silence is still deafening, and somehow, Dean feels entitled to break it with a muffled sob.


End file.
